As the day's collection went by, Sapphire didn't expect to see Raphael again, not after she threw a tantrum that he was interfering in her business. She had managed to avoid him all morning, ignoring his silent presence besides stalls , refusing to speak a single word to him. And when he had disappeared she assumed, with no small amount of satisfaction, that he had given up.
But as she approached the market stables where the stallions were tied, her satisfaction flickered and died.
Raphael stood there, waiting.
The stable's shadow fell over him, casting his face in partial shade. His arms were crossed, and his crimson eyes followed her every step. She tried to pretend she didn't see him, tried to walk past.
He moved into her path.
"How long are you going to throw a fit?" he asked, voice calm but eyes sharp.
They stood between rows of tethered stallions, the scent of hay and dust heavy in the air. She jabbed a finger at his chest, face flushed.
"As long as I live," she snapped.
His brow arched, lips curling slightly. "Watch that tone, human."
She opened her mouth, maybe to hurl another sharp retort, but then he pulled something from behind him. A cloth-wrapped parcel. The smell hit her instantly, warm, spiced bread.
"I left to get this," he said simply, extending it to her. "You hadn't eaten."
She blinked, caught off guard. Hesitating, she reached for it, then muttered under her breath without thinking,
"Like how you noticed your wife's injuries?"
The words hung in the air like a slap.
Raphael stilled. His expression didn't shift immediately, just a slow blink, like the words took a moment to pierce through.
Then, with a stiff smile, he said,
"You're right."
He tried to keep the smirk on his face, but Sapphire saw it falter, saw the pain flicker behind his eyes.
Feeling the twist of guilt in her chest, she looked down.
"I didn't mean to—"
He stepped back, cutting her off.
"Eat. I'll saddle the horse."
And without another glance, he turned and walked into the stable shadows
The ride back to the manor was cloaked in silence as sapphire sat tensely, guilt heavy in her chest. She hadn't meant for her words to cut as deep as they did, She glanced at him. He hadn't looked her way since.
"There's a tavern… just before the manor turn," she said quietly.
He didn't respond, just raised a brow.
She hesitated. "Let me buy you a drink. For earlier."
There was a pause. Then he gave a slight nod and veered toward the side road.
They stopped outside the quiet tavern, warm light spilling from the windows. As she moved to enter, he opened the door without a word.
"Don't think this buys you forgiveness," he said flatly.
She managed a faint smile. "It doesn't. But it's a start."
Sapphire stepped in cautiously, her nose immediately hit with the thick scent of ale, sweat, and roasted meat. The tavern was dimly lit, warm, and rowdy. Laughter boomed from one corner, dice clattered across tables, and barmaids — some with bodices hanging too low, others practically half-naked, weaved between the tables balancing trays of mugs and flirtatious smiles.
Her eyes widened.
She tried not to stare, but her cheeks betrayed her, flushed, flustered, and clearly out of place. She clutched the hem of her cloak nervously as a particularly buxom woman winked at her while pouring a drink.
A light tug on her hand brought her back to earth.
Raphael, smirking knowingly, pulled her toward an empty corner booth.
"You're gaping," he said, amusement thick in his tone.
"I'm not," she lied quickly, eyes darting anywhere but at him… or the women.
"Seems like someone's a bit mouthy for a first-timer," he teased as he slid into the seat across from her.
"I've just never…" She cleared her throat. "I didn't know places like this existed, just heard of them"
"Oh, they do," he chuckled, leaning back lazily. "And this one's tame."
She gave him a dry look. "I suppose next time I'll bring coin for a full education."
That made him laugh, a low, genuine sound.
"Don't tempt me, little dove."
They settled into the booth, the worn wood creaking softly beneath them. Sapphire kept her eyes low, fingers tugging at the edge of her sleeve while Raphael leaned back like he owned the place.
Without missing a beat, he lifted two fingers and signaled toward one of the women.
A barmaid noticed, grinning as she sauntered over. Her hips swayed deliberately, her bodice low enough to leave little to the imagination. She leaned in close to Raphael, resting a hand on his shoulder, her voice sweet and bold.
"Well well, haven't seen your face in a while," she purred. "Missed me?"
Raphael didn't move, his smirk effortless. "I need a drink."
She raised a brow, eyes darting briefly to Sapphire, who looked away quickly, pretending not to have noticed. The barmaid tilted her head in amusement.
"Just one?"
"Two," Raphael added, tone casual but final.
"Of course," the woman said with a wink, her fingers trailing off his shoulder as she turned to leave.
Sapphire remained stiff in her seat, eyes flickering toward the barmaid's back as she moved through the crowd. She said nothing, but her flushed expression spoke volumes.
Raphael glanced at her, then quirked a brow. "Jealous already?"
She scoffed. "Disgusted."
He chuckled lowly. "You'll get used to it."
"I don't intend to," she muttered, crossing her arms.
His smirk lingered, but his eyes held something softer now, like he was watching her, not just teasing. Maybe even trying to figure out humans.
The barmaid returned, placing two frothy mugs of ale on the table. The scent hit Sapphire instantly as she wrinkled her nose in distaste.
"I'm not drinking that," she said, inching her mug away.
Raphael raised a brow, already taking a sip of his own.
"What, too rustic for milady's tongue?"
"It smells like sour bread," she muttered.
He leaned in, smirking. "Just try it. A single sip won't kill you."
Sapphire narrowed her eyes at the challenge, fingers tightening around the mug. With a grimace, she brought it to her lips and took a tentative sip, then immediately gagged, coughing and nearly spitting it across the table.
Raphael burst into laughter. "Are all humans this dramatic?"
Her cheeks burned as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, coughing still.
"It tastes like poison."
"It's called ale," he said, lifting his mug with a grin. "Welcome to the common man's pleasure."
Still red, Sapphire stared at her mug. Then, eyes hardening with sheer pride and defiance, she raised it again—and in one go, downed the entire thing.
Raphael blinked, surprised as the mug slammed down on the table.
Sapphire exhaled, face flushed from the alcohol and the heat of his stunned gaze.
"Tastes like piss."
He grinned wider. "Now you're speaking like a tavern girl."